Thursday, January 29, 2009

Scottish poet Robbie Burns once wrote about foresight being in vain – addressing a mouse. A plough had turned up the beastie’s nest and the poem is basically an apology for the vicissitudes Man thrusts on critters.

Save your apologies, Robbie . . . critters strike back.

Even so, he got it right on one score. ‘The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.’

Here’s how I know. A friend and his wife decided to splash out on a nice big piece of fresh tuna a couple of days ago. Now, if you’ve never eaten real tuna that hasn’t seen the innards of a can, you’ve missed one of life’s great pleasures.

So, of course, such occasions require careful preparation . . . especially if you have critters.

My friends love critters. Among them are a couple of dogs; one young raider and one crafty old girl. Like all pet owners, they’ve become adept in anticipating dognanigans in most situations. And, they’ve developed some sure fire methods for cutting them off at the pass.

So the wife set about kitchen preparations, and her man went into dog emergency preparedness mode. The dogs like resting in front of the big woodstove in the living room, and to make them even more comfy, they have nice big carpet squares to cushion them against the hardwood flooring.

The quick addition of a tastefully upholstered plywood barrier, and it’s win-win for all. Comfy dogs, well corralled.

So off went friend to ‘help’ in the kitchen. Nice when a plan comes together.

There came from the living room some scratching noises and some whining noises – the kind of canine sounds the sweet aroma of fresh tuna inspires. Incautiously, my friends ignored them and continued with salad prep and other side bits so that when the moment came to pop the tuna into the frying pan, they would be all set – with ambrosial delight mere moments away.

The noises grew more urgent.

“Are you sure she doesn’t need to go outside?” asked the wife. “Why don’t you go and check while I heat the pan up . . .”

He’d already moved through the doorway and had begun surveying the scene. Which was not pretty, at all. Indeed, the old girl had needed to go out and when she could hold it no longer, nature took over.

Wife immediately shut off the stove burner and hastened to investigate new urgent noises now coming from the room . . . mostly frustrated gurgles from her mate and the ticky ticky sounds of dog toe nails scampering door ward.

“What a mess!” she muttered, and switched into clean up mode.

Both swung into immediate action, and one breathtakingly speedy operation had all under control in jig time. Mess out, dogs out, order restored.

And then they heard it.

The unmistakable sound of feline munchery coming from the kitchen.

Oh, yes indeed. The best laid plans of mice and men are no match for the opportune pounce of a cat.